


An Imitation for Which There Is No Original

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Smut, khrfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-31
Updated: 2010-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the best part of her day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Imitation for Which There Is No Original

**Author's Note:**

> Adult. For Round III of [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/khrfest/profile)[**khrfest**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/khrfest/), prompt _VII-16. Kyoko/Tsuna – genderswitch; "What you are waiting for"_. Smut and genderswap! 2751 words. ♂Kyouko = Kyousuke; ♀Tsuna = Tsuneko

Sometimes Tsuneko didn't know what the Ninth--or Reborn, for that matter, or her own _father_\--had been thinking when they'd settled on her for the Tenth. Bad enough that she hadn't even been raised inside the Vongola, in the eyes of some. Even worse, in the eyes of others, that she was a _she_.

If she'd only been a boy, she thought darkly, things would have been so much _easier_. Then she dismissed the thought, flattened her hands on the desk in front of her and leaned forward, channeling some of her irritation into the frown she was aiming at Nico Orsini. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't believe I heard you correctly. It sounded to me like you just asked the Vongola to cede one of their prime trading partnerships in exchange for your interests in Messina." Which amounted to approximately a hill of beans. "Surely that can't be an even trade, can it?"

Orsini gave her one of the smiles she hated most, the condescending kind that suggested that she didn't know what she was even talking about. "I think that if you took a closer look at what we're offering, you'll see that there's quite a lot of potential for growth in that market."

"Oh," Tsuneko said. So they were _magic_ beans. "Well, that makes all the difference in the world, doesn't it?" She gave Orsini just long enough to think that he'd succeeded in persuading her to his point of view before she let her voice turn sharper with the first edge of her Will. "The Vongola do not care to be mocked. When you have a proposal for us that isn't a joke, we will speak to you again. Until then, I will thank you not to waste our time."

She stood, which left Orsini no choice but to stand as well. He looked annoyed; that made two of them. Tsuneko gave him a thin smile and gestured discreetly; one of her people came forward to escort Orsini and his man out.

"That was interesting," Yamamoto said when the door had closed after them.

"That was an insult," Gokudera retorted from the other side of Tsuneko's desk. He was, Tsuneko noticed, practically vibrating with his outrage on her behalf. "I can't believe the Orsini thought they could hoodwink the Tenth into--"

"Gokudera," Tsuneko said before he could really get going. He silenced himself and came to attention. "Find out why Orsini is so eager to unload his Messina connections. The Orsini have been established there for decades and I want to know what's changed."

He fastened on the idea immediately. "Of course, Tenth. At once." He jotted some note to himself in his planner.

"What about me, Boss?" Yamamoto asked.

"Talk to CEDEF for me." Tsuneko gazed into the middle distance, not really seeing the wood paneling of her office. "Keep an eye on what Orsini does next and let me know who else he tries to hoodwink."

"Can do." Yamamoto straightened up from where he was slouching against the wall and stretched out as Gokudera closed his portfolio and dropped it into his attaché case. He stood as well, and that marked the conclusion of another day's business. "Anything else, Boss?"

"No," Tsuneko told them. "That will be all."

They ducked their heads at her, murmuring their goodnights, and left Tsuneko to the best part of her day.

Someone long ago--perhaps even Giotto himself--had decided that the business wing of the Vongola's main house would be kept separate from the private, residential wing. Tsuneko felt that had been a wise design decision. Normally when she made the walk from her study to the rooms that her mind persisted in labeling 'home' (even though the whole building was technically her home) she could feel the day's irritations leaving her with each step. Not tonight, though; the Orsini matter continued to gnaw at her even after she'd crossed the threshold into the halls that were purely private, where Orsini had no business being.

Kyousuke was waiting for her when she stepped into their rooms. "Tsuneko," he began. He stopped when he got a look at her face and his smile turned sympathetic. "It went that well, huh?"

"You could say that." Dinner was already laid out; Tsuneko bit the inside of her cheek. So much for the chance to get out of her business clothes and try to unwind a little bit more.

Kyousuke caught the direction of her glance. "It'll keep," he said. "Nothing that won't reheat."

Tsuneko wavered. "Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure." He smiled and waved a hand at her, shooing her towards their bedroom. "Go on."

Tsuneko went, stepping out of the black pumps she wore for those vital extra centimeters of height before she eased herself out of the sober black suit whose lines were cut to downplay the curve of her hips and her breasts and to make her shoulders seem broader. She hung that over the back of the chair, settling them so the cloth wouldn't wrinkle.

Sometimes she missed the days when she'd been able to wear dresses and skirts. Maybe she would again someday, once she'd managed to persuade the rest of the mafia that they'd have to take her seriously. If that ever happened. None of the pictures of the Eighth that Reborn and the Ninth had ever shown her had shown _Daniela_ wearing a skirt.

Kyousuke came in as she stripped out of her shirt and stockings and wadded them up. He didn't say anything as she tossed them into the hamper, but came to her and set his hands on her shoulders. They were warm and broad; Tsuneko groaned as his thumbs found the knots that had lodged between her shoulder blades and dug into them. "Keep doing that," she said, swaying back against him.

"Okay." He nuzzled the top of her head and kept going.

Tsuneko closed her eyes, gasping as Kyousuke kneaded her shoulders, easing them loose. The majority of her irritation went with the tension, which was a relief all of its own. She sighed as Kyousuke's hands turned gentler, stroking over her skin. When his lips brushed against the side of her throat, questioning, she murmured, "Yes," as she turned in his arms.

He made a pleased sound and kissed her, open and slow. Tsuneko sighed into his mouth and wound her arms around his shoulders, leaning into him as his hands moved down her back, warm through the silk of her camisole, and settled at her hips. She played with the fine hair at his nape as she leaned against him, letting him take some of her weight.

Sometimes she wondered how he could be willing to bear so much for her sake, all without complaining.

Kyousuke spread his fingers against her back, finding the strip of skin between her camisole and her panties. The stroke of his fingers against her skin made Tsuneko gasp, distracting her from her thoughts. That might have been his intention in the first place; he had a way of knowing that she was brooding without her ever having to say anything. It was very nearly uncanny.

Tsuneko arched into Kyousuke's hands as they stroked up her back, sliding under her camisole and dragging heat up her spine. She sighed his name and drew a hand down his chest, plucking at the buttons of his shirt and dipping her hand inside to spread against the smooth breadth of his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palm, steady and sure.

His hands slid up over her ribs, pushing her camisole ahead of them. Her breath caught in her throat as Kyousuke's thumbs stroked over her breasts, and she lifted her arms so he could draw the camisole over her head. He dropped it and just looked at her for a moment, a soft and wondering expression in his eyes. "Come to bed," he said.

"Yes," Tsuneko said, but not before she'd drawn his face back down to hers and kissed him again, absorbing herself in the texture of his mouth.

She turned down the sheets as Kyousuke undressed and stretched out against them, watching him undo his belt and slacks and step out of them. He really was beautiful, tall and strong, and she liked the play of his muscles as he stripped out of his socks and underwear. He caught her look of appreciation and ducked his head, bright hair falling across his eyes as he smiled at her, still a little bashful even now, even when he was looking back at her with just as much frank appreciation.

Tsuneko's breath caught in her throat with how much she loved him. "Kyousuke," she said, holding her hand out to him.

He smiled and took it, sliding onto the bed with her. Tsuneko sighed as his weight settled over hers and opened her mouth to his as she ran her hands over his chest and shoulders, tracing over the pleasing strength of them. His hands were gentle on her, all that strength held in careful check as he stroked her breasts, weighing them in his palms and caressing them till Tsuneko moaned with the way pleasure was thrilling down her spine and knotting low in her stomach. She whispered his name, hearing the huskiness in her own voice as he nuzzled the hollow between her breasts, and curled her fingers in the crispness of his hair as when his mouth stroked over them.

His mouth moved down her sternum, sliding against her stomach, and Tsuneko's breath caught. She arched into the softness of his tongue against her skin as all of her nerves fired with want. "Kyousuke..."

"Let me," he said, hooking his fingers in her panties, drawing them down. "I want to."

"God," Tsuneko breathed, and moaned as his hands moved up the insides of her thighs, spreading them, and he slipped down the bed to settle between them. His breath teased against her, making her stomach twist taut with anticipation as she gasped for breath. "God, please..."

Tsuneko closed her eyes as his mouth finally pressed against her _there_, lips and tongue stroking against her, lapping slowly and opening her up with the slow slide of his tongue. Sensation ran through her, quicksilver; Tsuneko sprawled against the bed, running her fingers through his hair and moaning, breathless with the way his fingers were spread against her thighs, holding them open as he curled his tongue against her, tracing it against her folds and her clit until she was aching with how much she wanted him. She gasped his name, throat dry with the way she was panting, and he slid a hand up to press his fingers into her as his tongue moved against her in slow coaxing circles.

Her body seized on the firmness of them inside her, curling and pressing just so. Tsuneko cried out as orgasm swept over her, arching under him as pleasure throbbed through her, relentless, driving everything else from her head but the brilliance of it.

When it finally eased, it left her shaking and breathless. All she could do was reach for him, wordlessly. Kyousuke understood and settled over her, sheltering her, brushing kisses against her forehead and her cheeks as her breathing slowed and the first trembling aftermath passed. He murmured to her between his kisses, husky snatches of much greater things, her name and how much he loved her, promises to take care of her, always.

Tsuneko wrapped her arms around Kyousuke, pulling him close. "Yes," she said, low, and kissed him again.

He kissed back, still tasting of her, and something curled in Tsuneko's stomach, responding to that, just a little greedy. He was pressed against her hip, smooth and hard; when she stroked her hand down his chest and stomach and closed it around him, Kyousuke groaned. "Tsuneko," he said as her fingers slipped over the silkiness of his skin, teasing over the slickness at the head. "Oh, god..."

"Kyousuke," she said, coaxing him closer, spreading herself open for him as his weight came to rest over her hips. "Yes, my own."

She groaned with him as he pressed into her, spreading her hands against his back at the stretch of him opening her up again, almost too much sensation to bear again so soon. He held still against her, though she could feel the effort it took him in the tension in his muscles and the way he panted against her throat. Tsuneko hitched her hips against his and felt him shudder with it. She said, softly, "What are you waiting for?"

Kyousuke groaned again and began moving, slow rolls of his hips at first that that pressed him up against her and made Tsuneko gasp with the friction of it, and then longer, deeper thrusts that sent pleasure driving up Tsuneko's spine, thick and heavy, till all she could do was hold onto his shoulders, gasping his name as pleasure sang through her. Then his fingers slid between them, finding her and stroking against her clit and she came apart again, arched under him and fingernails digging into his shoulders as orgasm rippled through her, long and sweet.

He gasped her name and drove against her fast and hard. Then the muscles under Tsuneko's fingers turned to iron as he strained against her, hips jerking as he groaned deep in his throat and his own pleasure took him.

Tsuneko gathered Kyousuke to her as he relaxed, drawing him down to her and holding him as they caught their breaths. His hair was silky under her fingers as she stroked it, and he murmured something against her throat that was unintelligible, and then kissed it. Tsuneko sighed and wound her arms around him. "Love you," she said.

Kyousuke pressed closer, mouth tracing against her throat, shaping the syllables of her name. "Love you too."

Tsuneko sighed, satisfied, and stroked his hair for a while longer as she soaked in the warmth of him. Eventually she asked, "So what did they send up for dinner?"

Kyousuke laughed against her throat. "Dunno. I can find out, though."

"Mm, I think we should do that." She kissed him again as they untangled themselves from each other, and he ran his fingers down her spine, lightly, in return.

It hardly seemed worth it to get dressed again, so they settled for wrapping themselves in their robes and eating the reheated meal--pasta and chicken and some kind of light wine sauce--while lounging in bed against each other. Kyousuke listened as Tsuneko described her day, his mouth kicking up at the corners from time to time as she grumbled about Orsini. "You were right," she said as she chased the last bite of her chicken through the sauce. "He did try to trade his Messina connections."

Kyousuke acknowledged the point with a dip of his chin. "Still haven't figured out why."

Tsuneko smiled at his faintly peeved tone. "You will," she murmured, since whenever she considered the network of informants Kyousuke had built for himself, she couldn't help being impressed. "Yamamoto's going to speak to CEDEF."

Kyousuke's faintly irritated expression eased. "That will help."

"Just tell me if there's anything else you'd like me to do." It hampered him to have to route certain requests through her--how could it not?--but there was nothing for it, not when political considerations meant that he couldn't appear to have any connections to the Vongola's business. Tsuneko wondered sometimes whether he minded having to work from the shadows, but if he did, he never showed it.

Sometimes she wondered at her luck and what she had done to deserve it.

He smiled at her. "You know I will."

"I know." Tsuneko set her plate aside and leaned against him. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He curled his arm around her shoulders. "You'd get surprised by weasels like Orsini more often."

Tsuneko laughed. "Yeah, probably." She rested her cheek against his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Welcome," he said, and kissed the top of her head.

"So," she said. "What did _you_ do today?"

"Oh, nothing much," he said, with a soft chuckle.

"Tell me anyway," Tsuneko murmured, and so he did. She sighed and relaxed against him, resting her cheek against his shoulder and listening to him, savoring the part of her day that made putting up with assholes like Orsini all worth it.

She wouldn't have changed a thing about it. 

**Author's Note:**

> (Also, title, since I'm being obscure even for _me_: from Judith Butler, "Imitation and Gender Insubordination" in re the construction of gender through performative iterations of particularly gendered acts. Look, I'm a geek; sometimes I just can't help myself.)


End file.
